I Can't Stand You
by lemonygoodness1998
Summary: Kyoya Ootori is cool and collected. Andi Konanawa is sarcastic and hot-headed. Kyoya is the son of the CEO of Japan's best medical supply company. Andi is receiving an experimental treatment from one of it testing facilities. When Kyoya is charged with responsibility for the girl, will opposites attract? Or will one of those opposites procure a murder weapon?
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

Kyoya's POV

"For the last time, I know you're Hikaru and you're Kaoru! Quit following me!" the girl yelled at the twins. They smirked at each other and each hooked an arm under the girl's to drag her down the hallway.

I sighed and pushed up my glasses. Between Tamaki, the host club, school, familial obligations, and now this girl to look after at school, I was going to explode.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Kyoya's POV

It had begun like any normal day: I had gotten up, eaten breakfast, been driven to Ouran Academy, attended my classes, and worked on the Host Club's finances in the back of Music Room 3. But when I got a call from my father as I was leaving the Host Club for the day, I knew this would not be like any normal day.

I flipped open my cell phone and pressed it to my ear.

"Kyoya Ootori speaking," I addressed the caller.

"Kyoya," my father's voice said through the phone, "please come to Jotanu immediately. I have a favor to ask of you." A click informed me that he had hung up. I shut my phone and placed it back into my jacket's pocket as I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. My father was perpetually blunt, but he was an excellent businessman. When I slid into the car waiting for me I told the driver to take me to Jotanu.

Jotanu General Hospital was one of my family's most loyal customers, so it did not surprise me that my father would ask me to visit it. What did surprise me was the diction he used. "Favor" was not a word often used in my family. It implied some kind of personal connection, connections of which my family had very few. I deduced that it must be regarding my status as an Ouran student, as he could have easily requested the favor from one of my older brothers. The exact nature of the favor, however, I could not fathom.

I pulled up in front of Jotanu exactly twenty-two minutes since leaving the school. I got out of the car, pulled my school satchel from the seat nearest me, ascended the steps, entered the building, and approached the woman who sat behind the front information desk. I greeted her with an obligatory smile.

"Hello, ma'am," I addressed her. "My name is Kyoya Ootori and I am looking for my father. He said he had a favor to ask of me." She smiled back and pointed me in the right direction: down the hall to the left, to the elevator where I would go to the basement.

After following her directions I found myself in a sterilely-lit basement with foam-tiled ceilings. My father, surprisingly, was there to greet me.

"Hello, Father," I said.

"Kyoya," he addressed me. "I told you I had a favor to ask of you."

I nodded once. "You did indeed do as such."

"Come with me, then," he told me. He began to walk down the hallway before him, so I followed, always walking slightly behind him as was custom. He stopped before a set of large steel doors and slid a keycard through the scanner mounted to the wall beside them. The doors slid from view and allowed us to pass. Behind the doors lay another hallway lit by harsh fluorescent light bulbs, a hallway which ended, once again, in a pair of steel doors. Upon arriving at the doors, he turned to me.

"What you are about to see behind these doors must never be revealed. Not even to Fuyumi must you speak of this. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I answered. With that he swiped his card and allowed me entry.

Behind the set of doors was what appeared to be a police interrogation observation room, only this room was equipped with a row of bulky Ootori medical equipment at its front. The room was dark; the only light came from the small LEDs and screens on the equipment and from a long window that ran above it. I knew that the window must be a two-way mirror so as not to alarm whatever, or whoever, sat in the room. My father entered behind me and closed the doors with another swipe of his card.

"This is an observation room, Kyoya," he said. "On the other side of that two-way mirror lies the favor I wish to ask of you."

Through the window I could see nothing complicated as I would have thought. There was no computer to program or check to balance, no Tokyo socialites to greet or equipment to pitch. Rather, there was only a young woman in a black sweatshirt and slim jeans lying on a small cot. She crossed her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling. I looked to my father for clarification.

"This is Oleander Konanawa, an American girl here to partake of a Japanese drug trial," he explained. "The trial has been deemed a success, so she will begin attending your school tomorrow. I would like you to be her guide tomorrow and to look out for her for the rest of the semester."

"I will do my best, sir."

"I am not finished," he glared from the corners of his eyes. "She has a condition which changes the color of her eyes. If you observe that her eyes have turned red, immediately remove her from whatever situation she is currently in and return her to this facility. We will take care of her from there. All other information is to be withheld from you and only introduced on a need-to-know basis. Now I am finished."

"Thank you, Father," I responded. I followed him back to the basement's lobby and rode the elevator up to the main lobby. I would then slide back into the car which waited for me and return home to complete a slew of homework and begin working on the Club's finances once more. The girl slipped completely from my mind.

Little did I know just how much trouble she would be.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Kyoya's POV

I stood waiting for the girl at the top of the steps outside Ouran. There were still three minutes before she was due to arrive, but I was still anxious to get in out of the rain. When the car finally pulled up before the main entrance I strode down the stairs, umbrella in hand, to open her door for her. Before I could even think about opening the door it popped open from the inside, a small pale hand gripping the handle.

"Good morning, Miss Konanawa-"

"Andi," she corrected me swiftly. "Just... call me Andi. No 'miss' or anything." She sighed and looked down before setting her jaw and stepping out of the car.

She wasn't wearing the Ouran Academy girl's uniform. She wasn't wearing the boy's uniform, either. Rather, she was in the same clothes she wore yesterday; a black hooded sweatshirt and black jeans. I thought it odd that my father wouldn't have provided a uniform for her.

I held the umbrella over her head as she got out.

"I'm fine," she said, waving the umbrella away and pulling up her hood. She swiftly trotted up the stairs and into the business office, leaving me with the umbrella. I thanked the driver and went after her.

I found her in the business office talking with the woman at the desk. The woman handed Miss Konanawa a folded slip of paper, presumably a schedule, across the desk just as the 7:30 bell rang.

"Andi," I addressed. "You may or may not know this but I am to be your guide for the day. I'd be more effective if you'd not run off." She froze at the desk and seemed to calm herself, then turn to me.

"Look," she said gently. "I've already memorized the blueprints of this place. I already knew my schedule and I have that memorized, too. I can handle myself pretty well. I don't need your help. Thank you, though." She walked through the glass door and into the main hall. I heard a quiet English swear from the other side of the door.

"That can't be a good sign."

On the other side of the door, a crowd of students had closed in on her.

"Isn't she adorable!?"

"She's not wearing any makeup! Do commoners not have that?"

"She's so poor she can't even afford a uniform! Poor girl!"

Miss Konanawa was pressed flush against the wall as the crowd of students accosted her about commoner life and culture. I pressed through the crowd and took her by the arm.

"Here," I said. "They'll keep their distance if one of their own is with you."

She quickly retracted her arm from mine and jumped back.

"I told you I don't need you," she said harshly. "I just want to be left alone."

"I have been designated by the Ootori company-"

"To look out for me, I know. I don't care. Leave me alone." She elbowed her way unceremoniously through the crowd and hurried to her first period class. The crowd followed her, leaving only me and Haruhi behind.

"The whole Host Club other than you and me is in there," she said. I sighed and pushed my glasses up.

"It doesn't surprise me."

"I hope they don't trample the poor girl."

"Something tells me that you should be more concerned that she doesn't murder the crowd."

By the end of the day I had had several incidents with the girl during one of which she threatened to turn me inside out through my rectum. Though physically impossible, I still stepped back as I realized she might actually try.

I sat in my usual spot while the Host Club sat with the young ladies who came into Music Room 3. I opened another tab to work on our account when I heard the doors burst open. We all looked up to see Miss Konanawa with a shocked and mortified expression on her face. A horde of students was visible behind her. Unfortunately, Tamaki took it upon himself to "introduce" her to the host club.

"Good afternoon, Princ- OW!"

He had inadvertently scared the girl, who had taken the liberty to scream slightly and punch him hard in the nose. The Host Club King now cowered in a corner with a bloody nose and a black cloud hanging over him. She said nothing, but merely stared at the scene she had caused with a confused expression painting her face. Evidently she decided to take advantage of the situation.

She turned to the crowd behind her.

"Take that as a warning," she said while pointing at Tamaki. The crowd slowly backed away and left her alone. She leaned against the doorframe and covered her face with her hands.

I tried to get to her before the twins did, but to no avail. Hikaru and Kaoru advanced upon her like a pair of wolves, nearly growling.

"What's the big idea here?" one asked.

"There's no big idea. Just a big mistake," Miss Konanawa answered him. She removed her hands from her face and stuffed them in her sweatshirt pocket. "I didn't mean to punch him. It's a reflex."

"Miss Konanawa has taken five years of martial arts in the UK," I lied smoothly. "It really has become an automatic reaction to her." She looked at me, understanding, and nodded. One of the twins sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

"Sorry Miss Konanawa," he said with a smile. "We're just looking out for our leader."

"I know. It's okay. Sorry to burst in on... whatever this is," she apologized.

"Miss Konanawa, could I have a word with you? Outside, preferably?" I asked her politely.

"Certainly," she quipped.

I led her into the hallway and closed the doors of Music Room 3.

"I am so sorry-"

"No need to apologize. I'm sure at least two of us have wanted to see that happen for a very long time. Myself included." I leaned against the wall and pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

"I'll keep that in mind, then."

"Please don't," I told her. "I asked you out here because I wanted to know why you punched Tamaki."

"I already told the twins, _it is a_ _reflex,"_ she said, punctuating each word of the second clause with a hand gesture.

"I am aware. I simply wanted an explanation as to why it is a reflex. I have been specifically instructed to conduct no research on you, so I have no idea." She fidgeted in her spot.

"Look, could we just drop it?" she asked nervously. "I'd prefer not to say anything on the subject."

"Certainly, Miss Konanawa."

"Please don't call me that," she said with a wince. "Just Andi."

"I'll keep that in mind then," I copied her words. She gave me a blank look and left, hands shoved deep in her pocket.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Andi's POV

_I lay in a cold white room. I couldn't move. It was like someone had put fifty pound weights into my bloodstream – everything felt so heavy, even my eyelids. The room was empty save for a bookshelf, a TV mounted to the wall, and a chair at my bedside in which my mother sat. She noticed me stirring and ran a hand over my hair._

_"Just rest, sweetheart," she said. As a rather tenacious child, I would have none of it._

_"Where am I?" I managed. My jaw hurt. Everything hurt._

_"You're in the hospital, Ollie," my mother told me._

_"Why?"_

_"You fainted in school today._

_"Oh."_

_A man bolted through the door and screamed. It went black._

When I awoke it was the middle of the night. I was all alone in the dormitory I had been assigned at Ouran. I tried to move, but all of my energy was focused on keeping air moving in and out of my lungs. I was paralyzed.

That was the second time in two nights I'd had that nightmare. I didn't know why it was so terrifying – it was just a snippet from my past with an added jumpscare. Maybe because that day had been the beginning of everything.

The paralysis faded and I was finally able to sit up on my bed. I help my head and my hands and tried not to think about it. Thought about anything else – the sheer curtains reflecting the moonlight, my ragged fingernails, how excruciatingly tight my shirt was around my back.

Kyoya's POV

The next day she had purple bags underneath her eyes; it was obvious that she had gotten little to no sleep the previous night.

"Good morning, Miss Konanawa," I greeted. "Did you sleep well?" She glared at me from the corners of her eyes.

"No, I did not sleep well, and I'm tired of your 'Miss Konanawa' bullshit," she spat. She had definitely had a rough night.

"I am sorry to hear that," I told her. "Perhaps you would like to exchange your mattress for a different one? Ouran has an extensive mattress collection to suit your needs." She whirled on me.

"I'm going to assume your father's hand is not currently shoved up your ass, so you don't need to be a puppet for him. You don't have to be so formal around me. It's condescending."

I felt a spark of annoyance flick up within me. She certainly was an inconvenience.

We currently sat in what we discovered yesterday was our shared first period. I sat in the desk directly beside her, all the more convenient for checking her eyes for redness.

The room fell almost silent, as if waiting to see what she would do next. Actually I do believe the entire class was waiting with bated breath to hear the outcome of the exchange. I merely slid my glasses farther up my nose and returned to my assignment.

"I am sorry you feel that way," I said and ignored her. The class let out a collective sigh of relief. Miss Konanawa would not be gaining any powerful enemies just yet.

After class I tried to speak with her once more.

"Please don't talk to me," she said.

That was the last time I tried speak with her that day.

Although I neither attempted to nor wanted to speak with her, I still had the responsibility of looking out for any changes in eye color. Upon observing her I inadvertently noticed several details of her behavior.

She spoke very little and never in front of the class. She ate lunch alone and tried to work and be alone as often as possible. All the erasers on her pencils were worn down to the metal nub and she had an annoying habit of tapping them against her notebooks. She drew hands and music staffs in the corners of her papers. She had a separate folder for doodles in each of her notebooks. She never smiled. She never laughed, except sarcastically, and she never leaned back against her chair, only forward onto the desk.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Kyoya's POV

Part of my duty to look after the girl included sleeping in an Ouran dormitory. Why? Simply stated, because Miss Konanawa also stayed in one. Less simply stated, because we, my father and I, were afraid she might do harm to the school or student body in some way if left unattended. My father had instructed me not to let Miss Konanawa know I also lived in a dormitory, so I was obliged to stay in my room for the majority of the time, leaving her to think she was the only one in the school at night.

I currently sat in an armchair in my dormitory working on the Club's finances; Tamaki had deigned it necessary to purchase several new sets of cosplay costumes, all of which were particularly elaborate, so I was tasked with reorganizing the budget to cover the expense. Just as I finished a new number popped onto our account. The Host Club King had just purchased another set of costumes.

I placed the computer on the floor in front of me and my head in my hands. I would never be able to comprehend how he could so flippantly spend the Club's money. Warding off a painful headache, I decided to wander the halls to clear my mind.

I turned left out of my dormitory and strode quietly down the long hallway of unoccupied Ouran dormitories, taking particular care to remain silent as I passed Miss Konanawa's. Another left turn and a hallway and I had left the high school dormitories; another five minutes and I had left the residential wing of the school. Unconsciously, I followed the familiar path I took as I went from class to class each day, a process which calmed the pain in my forehead considerably. It was only when I reached the final class of the day, economics, that I realized there was music playing somewhere in the school.

It was faint at first, like the distant pings of chandelier pendants as they collide in the breeze of an air conditioner, but as I drew closer to the Host Club's room, it grew louder. I could now make out the gentle sound of a piano being played, though I was still far enough away that the notes blurred together. For the first time that night I remembered that the Host Club's room was, indeed, a music room.

When I reached the room's doors I pressed my ear against them. It was unmistakable; someone was playing the piano which occupied the corner of the room, and playing it quite well. The song was haunting, dissonant, like if incompleteness could have a sound or key.

It was slightly shocking at first, the thought of a young woman such as her playing such an elegant instrument, but the powerful undertones held in the music assured me that it indeed was she who sat at the piano's bench. In addition to the quality of the song, there was only one other person who lived in the Ouran dormitories – Miss Konanawa.

Andi's POV

_CRASH_.

I crashed my hands down into the keys again, loving how they depressed under my fingers and made that deliciously dissonant noise. It had been far too long since I'd played, far too long since I'd even seen a piece of music.

That day, when I had found myself in the Ootori boy's... clubhouse, I could hardly bring myself to tear my eyes away from the big white piano in the corner. Not exactly my style, but it was enough.

My fingers flew of their own doing across the keyboard, pressing too hard against the imitation ivory. I had to feel the plastic heat up under the pads of my fingers; it was the only way I could know I wasn't just dreaming again, so I kept playing, just adding on more repetitions of the chorus or little trills with my fingertips. Keep moving. Just feel it. Always keep yourself moving. That was something my mother taught me.

I slammed myself into the keys again, almost like I was trying to fuse with the plastic. If I could heat up the keys enough, I could become one with the music. Like I was trying to push my soul in through the keys. My sweaty hands slid, my hair stuck to my face, but I didn't care. I was playing again. I laughed wildly as I swiped my hand down the keyboard and pushed in another chord.

I was flying.

I suddenly couldn't breathe. My shirt was too tight on my back and I couldn't breathe. I stopped playing with a jolt, a dissonant chord stopping mid-push. Falling sideways off the bench, the wind was knocked further out of me as I hit the ground. I forced myself to breathe – in out, in out. With a large gasp I got air back into my lungs and began to pant normally.

I left and ran all the way back to my dormitory. By the time I got to the room I was even more winded, breathe coming in cold and sharp through my throat. I collapsed onto the bed.

I needed to be more careful with my words.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Kyoya's POV

The next day I acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, despite having seen Miss Konanawa run hunched all the way back to her room. I had heard her vomiting periodically throughout the night, but didn't dare speak of it; if she knew I was residing in the room adjacent to hers my father's plan would be ruined.

"Good morning, Miss Konanawa," I greeted her the next morning in our first period class. She grunted in acknowledgement while she distastefully unpacked her school supplies, obviously not happy that I was conversing with her. "Did you sleep well?"

"You don't really care, so I won't answer," she said, cutting, as usual, straight to the bone.

"Hm," I hummed, turning to face the front of the classroom. Our teacher entered and began the lesson.

When class was over I begrudgingly escorted her to our next period, then to the next, and to the next, until she was finally able to evade me when I tried to escort her to lunch. She was easy to pinpoint in the lunchroom, being the only black blob in a sea of pastel colors. I walked over to her with my tray and politely asked if she would like to sit with the Host Club and me.

"Fuck off," was her response.

"I am not going to 'fuck off' until you give me a reason as to why," I told her.

"Because I don't like you."

"Fair enough," I said, going to sit with the Host Club.

Upon placing my tray on the table and sitting down I was bombarded with questions from Honey and the twins.

"Who is she?"

"What did she tell you?"

"What's her name?"

"Are you two dating?"

"She just told me to – cover Honey's ears, please, Mori," I said and Mori placed his hands over Honey's ears. "She just told me to 'fuck off,' so we're not dating."

Mori uncovered Honey's ears.

"I could still hear you, you know," Honey said. I sighed and pushed up my glasses.

"To answer your questions her name is Oleander or 'Andi' Konanawa, she is here in Japan to partake of a drug trial, and no, we are not dating. I do believe she hates me, actually. She's becoming more and more belligerent as time goes on," I said, unwrapping my chopsticks from their napkin and placing the fabric in my lap.

"Why is she sitting over there by herself?" one of the twins asked.

"We should ask her to join us!" piped Honey. Tamaki said nothing, instead opting to view his new bruise in the reflection on a spoon.

"I already asked her to eat with us," I told them. "She declined the offer."

"Kyoya-senpai," Harhui began, "if she hates you so much, why do you insist on hanging out with her?"

"Well, my father has asked me to keep an eye on her."

"Why?"

I glanced over at Miss Konanawa. She had placed her head on the table and crossed her arms to shield her eyes.

"I wish I knew," I answered, slightly aggravated at the fact. "But that information is, apparently, a secret of the Ootori company."

Haruhi let out a little "oh" before going back to her food, not pressing any further.

I noticed a small commotion out of the corner of my eye. The Host Club and I turned our heads to see a small group of students surrounding Miss Konanawa, all of them asking questions about her life.

"You're so pale! Where are you from?"

"Why aren't you wearing the uniform? Can you afford it?"

"Are you an honor student?"

Miss Konanawa's normal deadpan expression was now one of decided nervousness. Something on her back shook and she stood straight up, eyes wide.

"I need to go," she said before bolting out of the room.

The twins were the first to turn their attention back to the group.

"What was that about?" they asked.

"And what was that on her back?" Haruhi added.

I had no idea. My jaw was locked so tightly that I doubted I would have been able to give them a response if I had one. I finally managed to speak, telling the Host Club that I'd be right back, that I was going to check on Miss Konanawa.

"Do you know where she went?" Honey-senpai asked.

"I have a good idea," I answered before I stood and left, leaving my food all but untouched.

I walked briskly out of the dining hall and towards Music Room 3. Upon arriving I heard loud piano music coming through the closed doors. She was there.

I opened the door just barely, poking my head in through the crack. Miss Konanawa sat at the large white piano with her hands moving harshly over the keys. She was in the middle of a frenzy and I knew better than to disturb her, so I closed the door and began walking back to the cafeteria.

The rest of the day passed quickly: classes, the Host Club, balancing finances, etc. And just like the previous night I found myself wandering the halls of Ouran to calm my racing mind. When I got to the Host Club's room I heard music again, this time the strumming of a guitar.

Someone with an incredible gift was playing the guitar in the Host Club's room; the strums were interspersed with single strings and gentle pats to the guitar's body. I opened the door and – there was Miss Konanawa sitting on one of the Host Club's couches with a guitar draped over her lap, her fingers dancing over the strings and frets. She was so absorbed in the music that she didn't notice the slight creak of the hinges as I peeked through the crack in the doorway.

I closed the door and slid down the wall, coming to sit on the floor with my arms resting on my splayed knees. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. Soon enough I was just as absorbed in the music as Miss Konanawa.

Andi's POV

The rest of the day was uneventful: I went to classes, threatened the Ootori boy, and went back to my dormitory at the end of the day. The only thing I wished I could have done was gotten an instrument from the music room and brought it back with me. So at around nine that night, when I was sure nobody else was in the school, I walked back to Music Room 3.

Unlike in the daytime, when it was used as a rich boy petting zoo, the room was eerily quiet at night; relaxingly so, in my opinion. After copious time spent searching I found a door leading to an adjacent room, this room obviously a store room for musical instruments. I immediately knew that this was where I would be spending most of my nights at Ouran. This room was filled to the brim with sitars and drums and xylophones and upright basses and violins and violas and cellos and every musical instrument known to man, with amplifiers and MIDI keyboards and a shelf dedicated to music producing computer programs, with entire shelves stocked with just sheet music. As I excitedly browsed through the selection of instruments I came across the guitar section and I was smitten.

There was one guitar, a Seagull flanked by a Grestch and a Fender, that was so magnificent in its pale driftwood beauty that I had to try it. I took it off the wall and strummed a chord and fell in love.

I took it back into the main room and plopped down on one of the petting zoo's couches facing away from the door. Draping the guitar across my lap I began to play, losing all concept of time.

I only thought to put the guitar up when the early-morning sun began to peek through the window. I quickly tucked the instrument back onto the wall and rushed back to my room for a shower before changing into new clothes and heading to the dining hall for breakfast. I got my tray of rice and other foods that wouldn't be on the breakfast table in America and found myself a seat in a windowless corner of the room as several students filed in.

To my surprise the Ootori boy was one of those students.

He got his tray, thanked the woman serving him, and searched for a spot. To my dismay he spotted me; to my consolation he sighed in displeasure he came over.

He placed his tray across from me and unwrapped his chopsticks before sitting down and placing the napkin on his lap. I sighed.

"Why?" I asked simply.

"Because, as a representative of the Ootori Company-"

"You are _not_ a representative of your family's company. You are seventeen goddamn years old," I groaned. "In America we don't have high school students working for corporate companies."

"We do things differently in Japan than in America," he said.

"And it's not always a good thing."

"America is not infallible."

"We've had at least three economic crashes in the history of the Federal Reserve. I know it's not infallible."

He sighed and did something over his food – a prayer? – before taking a bite of rice. I held my head in my hands to ward off a headache. I should have slept the previous night.

When I was confident that I wasn't going to get a headache I grabbed my chopsticks and positioned them awkwardly in my hand. Kyoya eyed me strangely.

"I'm used to forks, asshole," I snapped. "Don't judge me."

"I'm not judging you," he said.

"I'm not blind. I can see you judging me."

"I am not in a position to judge, seeing as I would probably hold a fork in a similar manner."

"But you are human, I'm guessing," I said. "Humans judge whether they should or not."

"Maybe Americans do."

I shrugged and struggled to bring a bite of rice to my mouth, dropping several grains in the process. I glared at them.

"Here."

Suddenly there was a hand on mine, repositioning my chopsticks. I looked up to see that the Ootori boy had reached over the table to assist me.

"Thanks," I said reluctantly.

He didn't say anything as he retracted his hand and wiped it on his napkin. I should have been offended, but I wasn't for some reason.

We ate in silence for several minutes, neither of us looking up from our food, presumably because neither of us could stomach so much as looking at each other for prolonged expanses of time.

Suddenly there was a loud voice.

"Kyoya!" a blonde boy yelled from across the room. Nobody but me so much as looked up. The Ootori closed his eyes and exhaled roughly, almost like he had been punched.

As the blonde boy came closer I noticed that he had a large bruise on his face. It was the same asshole I had punched in the petting zoo two days earlier.

"Kyoya!" he exclaimed as he excitedly pulled the Ootori boy in for a hug. "I missed you!"

"It's been less than twenty-four hours," I said, dumbfounded at this boy's display of affection.

The blonde boy finally noticed me, his head whipping around to face me and eyes going wide. He suddenly let go of the Kyoya and cowered behind two other boys that I hadn't noticed were there – the twins who had accosted me for punching this boy. I was astounded at how dramatic the boy was.

I turned to the Ootori boy.

"What-" I began.

"This," he interrupted, gesturing to the boy cowering behind the twins, "is Tamaki Suoh, the son of the school's superintendent."

I was expecting him to remain cowered behind the boys, but instead he hesitantly came out from his hiding spot and offered me his hand.

"I remember that you're British, and the British shake hands instead of bowing!" he said brightly. Too brightly. He was faking it.

I hesitantly shook his hand once before dropping my own.

"These are Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin," the Ootori boy said. The twins smirked at each other before offering their hands to me.

Something was up.

I carefully went to shake one of the boys' hands when the other grabbed me by my other arm and pulled me out of my seat. They grabbed me under my arms and began pulling towards some unknown location, and they were pulling at lightning speed.

"What the fuck?" I said in English.

"We'll be back, Kyoya-senpai!" they called as they pulled me out into the hallway.

"What are you doing?" I almost yelled as I struggled to get my footing.

"Playing with our new toy," one of them snickered.

"If this is some kink you two have-"

"It's not about sex," the other said.

"Well, maybe a little bit," the first countered with a wicked grin.

"Absolutely fucking not," I grunted as I finally found my footing.

I unhooked my arms from theirs and kicked one of the twins in the face before doubling back and round-housing the other. As they lay groaning on the ground, each holding their cheeks, I glared down at them.

"Alright, you two," I growled. "I am going to go back to my breakfast, and I am going to eat it. _In peace._ _Do we have an agreement?_"

They both nodded their heads furiously and I turned to leave. Then I heard-

"Hikaru," one pathetic voice said, "are you alright?"

"Am _I _alright? I should be asking you that."

"But… I was more worried about _you_."

I turned back to look at the display they were putting on. They were leaning on their elbows towards each other, one of them with his hand on his twin's cheek.

"Oh, Hikaru.

"Kaoru-"

"What the fuck?" I repeated.

They looked to me in mild shock.

"You're not falling all over us," they said.

"I don't masturbate to the thought of twins fucking," I said bluntly.

They blinked before bursting into loud laughter.

"I like you," one of them said as he sat up.

They helped each other up before legitimately offering their hands to me. I shook them, each in turn, and eyed them suspiciously.

"What were you planning to do to me?" I asked.

They snickered.

"Our mother is a fashion designer," one began.

"We were going to force you into a dress," the other began.

I almost shuddered at the thought. That would have been disastrous.


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Kyoya's POV

After school that day the twins dragged her into Music Room 3. She didn't come without a fight, however; in fact, the moment the doors opened the Host Club and guests were treated to a view of Miss Konanawa leaping over Hikaru and Kaoru and attempting to run down the hall. They immediately hooked their arms through hers and resumed dragging her into the room.

"Let me go, you-"

"Now now," one of the twins chastised. "Don't use bad language around our guests."

"I legitimately want to rip your testicles off."

Both twins cringed.

They continued to drag her until they reached the door to the adjoining dressing room, forcing her in before following in after her. The door closed.

I heard Haruhi sigh beside me.

"I may feel sorry for the girl," she said, "but I can't help thinking that I'm glad it isn't me this time."

I hummed. I would have hated to be in Miss Konanawa's position; however, I couldn't quite bring myself to be sorry for her. Not when I fully knew she was capable of taking care of herself, as evidenced by the large bruise still present on Tamaki's face. Just then the dressing room door swung open and out stormed Miss Konanawa, a deadly glare on her face. She strode to the main doors, adjusting the cuffs of her shirt, and left. Moments later the twins stumbled out of the dressing room, each holding their already bruised cheeks. Their eyes were wide and faces were pale in shock.

"That girl can punch," one complained half-heartedly, obviously not too upset that he had just been hit.

"And kick," said the other.

I was puzzled. What could Miss Konanawa have done to startle them so much?

The twins sat back on their couch and each hastily threw an arm around the other's shoulders; their guests glared at the door through which Miss Konanawa had left. As they resumed talking their conversation inevitably tuned towards the girl.

"Who is she?" one patron asked. Miss Ito.

"And why is she so violent?" asked another. Miss Akiyama.

"We're not really sure," said Hikaru and Kaoru. "We really only met her yesterday."

"I haven't met her, but I can already tell I don't particularly care for her," said another customer distastefully. Miss Hayashi.

"She can get pretty scary," one of the twins said.

"She's fun to mess with, though," said the other.

"I'm sure," said Miss Akiyama.

"Do you know where she's from?" asked Miss Hayashi.

"Britain."

"Correction," I interjected coolly, not looking away from my laptop screen although I was doing nothing. "She is actually from America. I was mistaken when I informed you that she was British."

"That partly explains the temperament," said Miss Ito.

"But not why she wears that hideous jacket," countered Miss Akiyama.

The twins suddenly paled further. They looked over at me.

"Kyoya-senpai," they called. "Could we talk to you for a moment?"

"Talk away."

"We meant in private."

I looked up, surprised but not showing it.

"Certainly," I said as I closed my laptop and tucked a notebook under my arm.

"We'll be back, ladies," they said to their customers.

The three of us walked into the hallway and shut the door. The moment the door closed I spoke.

"What is this about?" I asked.

"It's Miss Konanawa," one answered. "She-"

He had to pause to breathe. What could have been so bad as to have thrown off the trickster twins?

"She had cuts on her wrist."

_Oh_.

"You're sure?" I said more than asked. They nodded.

"There were a lot of them," one twin (Kaoru, I believed) affirmed. "Scars. Old cuts, like she's been doing that for a while."

"Were there any fresh cuts?" I asked. The twins shook their heads.

"We just thought you might like to know, seeing as you're keeping an eye out for her," said the other twin.

I nodded once before making a note in the notebook I had brought to the hallway.

_Past self-harm. Possibility of recurrence._

"Thank you, Hikaru and Kaoru," I said. They nodded solemnly.

"I guess we know why she didn't want to try on our clothes," they said.

I hummed disinterestedly, but my mind was racing. How could I not have caught that? Why would my father have denied me that information? Would she do it again in the future?

We went back into the music room and resumed our various personas, Hikaru and Kaoru fawning over each other and me quickly typing a name into the Google search bar.

_Oleander Konanawa_.

Andi's POV

I went back to my dorm and flopped onto my bed, my mind flying a mile a minute.

The twins had seen my cuts. The twins had seen my cuts. The twins had seen my cuts.

Knowing, somewhat, the nature of the petting zoo (I had recently learned it was called the Ouran High School Host Club), I knew that the boys would tell their friends everything about me. The Ootori boy would know within days if he didn't already, and that meant that he would be knocking on my door…

Now.

There was a string of knocks on my door. I reluctantly hoisted myself up and looked through the peephole. Sure enough it was Kyoya, looking terribly official with a notebook tucked under his arm and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

"What do you want?" I sighed through the door.

"I just wanted to ask you a few questions, Miss Konanawa."

I opened the door and leaned against the frame.

"I've told you to call me Andi," I said

"And my propriety has told me to call you Miss Konanawa. Now," he said, eyes darting down to my covered arm. I immediately knew why he was here. "The questions."

"I know you know about my wrists, Ootori," I interrupted. He froze.

"Alright then," he said after a moment. "Would you mind telling me why you self-harm or self-harmed?"

"I would mind. Fuck off."

I closed the door and bolted it.


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Kyoya's POV

She shut the door in my face. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and exhaled before walking back to the Host Club's room.

My Google search on Miss Konanawa had yielded nothing. She had never been quoted in a newspaper, been in a school play, or written a blog post – nothing. I was left empty-handed as I headed to her room, and I felt even emptier after I left.

Now, sitting in Music Room 3 as the Host Club was cleaning up from a day's work, I poised my fingers of the keys of my laptop and begged myself to work on the budget for the coming month. I couldn't get my fingers to move. Instead they hovered frozen over the keys while I stared blankly at the spreadsheet on my computer screen.

I couldn't get Miss Konanawa's injuries out of my head.

What on earth could have caused her to inflict such pain on herself? I knew that cutting was often a sign of mental illness, but there had to have been some external stimulus or stimuli to force her to so low an act. What kind of treatment had she received, if any? What was psychiatric treatment like in the U.S.? _Why had my father not told me?_

"Goodbye, Kyoya-senpai," said Haruhi as she passed me on her way out. "Have a nice evening."

"You as well, Haruhi," I responded.

Tamaki hastily followed Haruhi out of the room. The twins were next to leave, followed by Honey-senpai and Mori. I was finally left alone in the room.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my father's number before pressing the device to my ear. He answered on the third ring.

"Kyoya," he said brusquely. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hello, Father," I greeted him. "I was just wondering something about Miss Konanawa."

He breathed roughly into the receiver and it echoed static on my end of the line.

"What would you like to know?" he asked.

"Why is it exactly that she self-harmed?"

He was silent for a long time, long enough that I thought he had hung up. Before I could end the call myself and redial I heard a sigh on the other end of the line.

"I think it's best if you left that alone, Kyoya," he said. "I gave you enough information for you to work with."

"Yes, sir," I said deferentially. "Thank you for your time."

"Of course."

This time he did hang up, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Why was it best if I left it alone?

I did not pride myself on my curiosity; it had gotten me in quite a lot of trouble in my childhood and it wasn't the best asset in the business world. However, I was a curious person, and that was part of the reason why I researched all of the Host Club's clients. It was at that moment that my curiosity was taking full root. I could feel it in the soles of my feet and in the back of my chest – I wanted to know what was going on with Oleander Konanawa, and Kyoya Ootori always got what he wanted.

That night I repeated my walk, something that had become a routine for me since coming to live at the school. I once again found myself at the Host Club's door and, once again, found myself mesmerized by the sound from within.

It was a violin that night, and the music was dark and sorrowful as she dragged the bow across the strings. I peeked through the door and saw that she wasn't using any sheet music, and had probably gone without it on the previous nights as well. It was then that I realized that she wasn't just talented – she was a prodigy.

I spent several hours working on homework on the floor in the hallway outside of Music Room 3, leaning my head against the wall and drowning myself in the music emanating from the room. When the music stopped I quickly strode back to my room to avoid detection and went to sleep.

The next day at breakfast I sat with Miss Konanawa again, much to her displeasure; once again, we were joined loudly by Tamaki. He threw his arms around me and yelled happily.

"Kyoya, I have something to show you!" he exclaimed before sitting down beside me and pulling out my laptop. A normal person would have hit him for disrespecting the notion of _private_ property. Perhaps I _should_ have hit him. Either way Miss Konanawa looked amused across the table as she awkwardly delivered balls of rice to her mouth.

"What do you want to show me, Tamaki?"

"This!"

He turned the laptop to face me. On the screen was a YouTube video, the frame completely black.

"Should I put in headphones?" I asked tightly.

"Sure."

I pulled my earbuds out of my bag and unwound them before plugging them into the side of my computer. I pushed the headphones into my ears and pressed play.

The screen never changed, but through the headphones came the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. I turned to look at Tamaki.

"I know!" he exclaimed. "She's wonderful! I listened to all of her music last night."

"Who is it?" Miss Konanawa asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Tamaki smiled brightly at her before answering.

"Her real name isn't mentioned, but her YouTube channel is called KonaMusic."

She immediately stiffened, her eyes going wide. Her back suddenly shook like it had when she had been bombarded with the crowd of students several days earlier. I reluctantly pulled out one of my headphones and asked if she was alright.

"I'm fine," she breathed. "Just need… to leave for a second."

"Alright."

She stood and took her nearly untouched tray to the trashcan and emptied it before placing the tray itself in its designated slot. She hurried out of the room, hands in her pockets.

"What was that about?" Tamaki asked as his eyes followed her out of the room.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "But I can guarantee you that I'm going to figure it out."

Andi's POV

After a five-minute-long anxiety attack in the bathroom I managed to calm myself down.

KonaMusic. I hadn't heard that name in a long time.

I had started making YouTube videos when I was twelve, singing and playing music to upload to the Internet. It was all in good fun, but my popularity surged in the U.S. and Canada as I uploaded more and more videos. I had eventually become a YouTube partner for my music, able to make money from my videos. In fact, that money was what enabled me to come to Japan in the first place.

My channel's name? KonaMusic.


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Kyoya's POV

I couldn't find Miss Konanawa after breakfast. I saw her in our classes, but she managed to avoid me in between them; she even managed to avoid the twins. I still had no idea why she had run off in the manner she had.

I was able to catch her after school as she made her way to her room.

"Miss Konanawa," I said. She whirled around with her fist in the air, ready to strike. When she saw that it was me she lowered her arm and sighed.

"What is it, Ootori?" she asked. "And I really prefer to be called Andi."

"Miss Konanawa, I was wondering why you ran off during breakfast this morning," I said. I was starting to think that I was only calling her Miss Konanawa to spite her.

She immediately looked uncomfortable, grabbing the crook of her elbow and looking away.

"I knew the girl who ran KonaMusic," she said quietly. "She died in an explosion last year."

"And you ran off because the memories were too painful for you," I inferred. She nodded her head before looking back at me.

"I get… anxiety attacks," she said slowly. "I don't get them as often as I used to, but I still get them. I ran off because I could feel one coming on and I didn't want anyone to see it."

"I see."

She looked and sounded more vulnerable than I had ever witnessed her, and I was immediately concerned that she would cut herself again. If she were to do that under my watch I would undoubtedly lose favor with my father.

"Come to the Host Club with me," I said.

Her eyes hardened back to their normal intensity.

"No way in hell, Ootori," she scoffed. "I'm not interested in sitting in on your rich boy petting zoo."

"As a representative of the Ootori Company-"

"_Stop that_."

"- I feel it is my duty to look after you in this time of vulnerability-"

"I'm not vulnerable."

"- and because I need to go to the Host Club, I require you to come with me if I am to watch over you."

"I'm a big girl," she said. "I can take care of myself."

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and inhaled.

"Would you _please_ come to the Host Club with me?" I asked, swallowing my pride and the lump in my throat.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Fine," she capitulated. "I'll go to your stupid petting zoo. But I'm not going to sit with the hosts."

"You can sit with me," I offered coolly, not really liking the idea but needing to keep an eye on her.

"Sure. Just let me get something from my room and I'll be back."

I followed her to her room, pretending like I didn't know the way already, and watched her rifle through her drawers until she came up with a notebook and several pencils. She came out of her room and closed the door before following me back to the Host Club's room.

When we got back to Music Room 3 we were greeted by a normal day of Club Activities: Tamaki was successfully wooing clients, Honey-senpai was eating cake while Mori silently watched him, the twins were fawning all over each other, and Haruhi was cleaning up a broken teacup. I led Miss Konanawa to my table and set my satchel on the ground. She sat in the chair opposite mine and opened her notebook, a notebook which I soon noticed was filled with blank music staffs.

She wrote her own music. I made a mental note of that before opening my laptop.

Not ten minutes since walking into the Host Club's room Honey-senpai approached our table, Mori right behind him. Honey walked over to Miss Konanawa and tugged on her pant leg. She looked down.

"Hi!" he chirped. "I'm Honey!"

"H-hi," Miss Konanawa stammered, obviously not used to people approaching her. "I'm Andi."

Honey stuck out his hand and she shook it.

"This is my cousin, Mori!" Honey introduced our silent host. He and Miss Konanawa shook hands, the latter surreptitiously wiping her sweaty palm on her pant leg.

"It's nice to meet you both," Miss Konanawa said, uncharacteristically quiet and reserved. "Why exactly did you come to introduce yourselves?"

Honey motioned for her to lean down.

"We wanted to say that you have a good right hook," he whispered, motioning to Tamaki.

For the first time I heard Miss Konanawa laugh. Quiet though it was, it was still a laugh, and it somehow suited her.

"Thank you," she said.

"We heard you were from America," Honey said. "Why are you here in Japan?"

She looked decidedly more uncomfortable, but she spoke anyway.

"I'm here to take part in a drug trial," she said.

"Is it being run by Kyo-chan's family?"

"Yes."

Honey may have looked like a child, but he was actually the oldest Host. At that moment he looked more mature than I had ever seen him, regardless of whether he was squeezing Usa-chan. He must have been picking up on the discomfort that Miss Konanawa was feeling. He didn't push the subject of the drug trial any further; however, the subject he brought up next was, I believed, an even worse topic.

"Did Tamaki show you KonaMusic? He's been showing everybody."

Miss Konanawa's forced smile slipped from her face and she covered her mouth. She looked like she was going to be sick.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I'll be right back."

She bolted from the room, tripping over her own feet periodically and holding her hand over her mouth. Honey-senpai looked at me confusedly.

"What did I say?" he asked.

"Miss Konanawa knew the girl who ran the channel," I explained. "She died in an explosion."

The host's face fell.

"Oh," he said sadly. "I didn't know."

"What!?" I heard Tamaki yell. He was suddenly right beside me, his hand placed dramatically on his forehead. "KonaMusic is dead? How tragic!"

Honey-senpai solemnly nodded. Tamaki, with dramatic tears in his eyes, scanned the room. I could feel his gaze come to rest on Miss Konanawa's notebook. The tears instantly dried and his face lit up. I marveled at how quickly his moods could change.

"Is that music?" he whispered excitedly. "I didn't know Miss Konanawa wrote music! I should play it!"

"You know very well how much the girl values her privacy," I said.

"I agree with Kyo-chan. I wouldn't play it, Tama-chan," said Honey-senpai.

"Nonsense!" Tamaki proclaimed. "I will reveal her talents to the world!"

"Tama-chan-"

It was too late. Tamaki already had the notebook in his hands and was racing to the piano. He set the notebook on the instrument and flipped to the front page before gingerly pressing his fingers to the keys.

"_Tama-chan_," Honey-senpai warned.

He began to play.

I considered myself to be a cultured individual; I could speak three languages fluently, I attended the premier high school in the country, I had attended innumerable high-society gatherings, I could list at least thirty operas that I had seen, and I was familiar with European, Japanese, and American musical composers. None of those composers had ever made me falter in my work, but I had to stop typing in order to listen to Miss Konanawa's piece.

This piece was powerful and forceful and it commanded the attention of everyone in the room, including myself. Even Tamaki himself was moved by the force of the music, his eyes going wide at every note he played. By the time he was done the room was dead silent.

Until-

"You son of a bitch!"

She said it in English, but Tamaki got the message. Miss Konanawa, back from her anxiety attack and looking significantly paler, advanced upon him and snatched her notebook from the music stand. Tamaki was immediately blubbering with apologies and other words about how he thought she would like it to be played, how music was a public thing.

"My music is very _personal_ to me," she growled, clutching her notebook to her chest. "If you _ever_ play it again without my permission I will personally make you incapable of procreating. Are we clear?"

He nodded quickly, all blood draining from his face at the prospect of disfigured genitals.

Miss Konanawa came back to her seat across from me and gathered her pencils.

"I would have stayed, just so you know," she told me.

She stormed out of the room, letting the doors slam behind her as we all stared after her. I was the first to break the silence with a sigh. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and tried to concentrate on my computer screen, prompting the rest of the room to resume its previous activities.

I wondered if there was any situation from which Miss Konanawa would not find some way to extricate herself. The answer came quickly, and it was no.


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Kyoya's POV

She didn't go to the music room that night.

I sat down across from her at breakfast the next morning, taking my chopsticks from their napkin and placing the napkin on my lap. She had her hood over her head and her head resting in her hands.

"Why do you insist on sitting with me?" Miss Konanawa asked.

"I've been assigned to keep an eye on you."

"You could easily do that from over there," she pointed out, motioning to where Tamaki and the twins sat. Tamaki kept stealing furtive glances at Miss Konanawa and touching the fading bruise on his face.

"Are you suggesting I leave?" I asked. The glare she gave me told me that the answer was an obvious yes. "I need to stay to make sure your eyes don't turn red, and I can't see your eyes from over there."

She immediately looked up.

I had never really noticed how Miss Konanawa looked; I had just thought of her as a troublesome young woman and paid no further attention to it. But then, without her usual scowling mouth and glaring eyes, I noticed.

Miss Konanawa possessed unblemished pale skin, though she showed very little of it; full, rose-pink lips; a delicate nose, unkempt but straight eyebrows, and dark hair perpetually pulled back into a ponytail. What truly caught my attention at that moment were her wide eyes which seemed impossibly green. I was caught off-guard for a moment.

She was… pretty.

"How did you know about the eye thing?"

That brought me out of my trance. I blinked before answering.

"My father told me to look out for it. I know no more than that they change colors," I said coolly. How had I not noticed she was pretty?

She sighed in relief and rubbed her eyes.

"Okay," she said with a wince. "Okay."

"Is there anything else I should know about your situation?" I asked. Oh my _god_ she was pretty.

"If my eyes turn red get me to Jotanu as soon as possible," she said. "If that's impossible then cut me."

I almost choked on my rice.

"The only thing that brings me out of my red-eye episodes is pain," she explained. "And I can't do it myself. Or I won't do it myself."

I looked at her for a moment.

"What exactly are you being treated for?" I asked. "From what you've told me it can't simply be that your eyes change colors."

"Can we change the subject?"

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

"What do you suggest we talk about instead?"

"I suggest silence," she said.

"I would actually like to know more about you."

"Tough luck."

I almost broke a chopstick. This girl was impossible.

No matter how pretty she was.

"_Please_ tell me something about yourself," I said.

She laughed. She laughed that quiet, shoulder-shaking laugh that she had laughed when Honey-senpai had complimented her right hook. Her green, _green_ eyes sparkled oddly, almost like the light behind them was forced.

"Fine," she chuckled. "I don't know why you're so eager to know."

"I do research on every student at Ouran," I explained.

"I see."

"Continue."

She sighed, still laughing at me but not looking forward to talking about herself.

"My full name is Oleander Adalynn Konanawa, I'm half Japanese, I was born and raised in Texas, I went to an animal science summer camp in Missouri for five years in a row, and I'm fifteen years old."

"Fifteen?" I questioned. "How are you in my classes?"

"I skipped two grades in middle school."

"Do you know your IQ?"

"It was 140 when I was ten."

I made a mental note. She was far from unintelligent.

"Now you owe me some information."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"You know what I'm talking about. I told you about myself and I refuse to have you know more about me than I know about you."

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose again.

"Alright," I said. "I am the third of three sons, I have a cat named Noel who is very attached to me, I am seventeen years old, I have a sister named Fuyumi, and I do not like to get up in the mornings."

She nodded and hummed, picking up her chopsticks and taking a clumsy bite of rice. She swallowed before speaking.

"And your best friend is Tamaki Suoh."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"You are the only boy that he hugs. He hugs the girl in the boy's uniform-"

"I'd prefer if you didn't make that part known."

"I figured. I'm not going to tell anyone she's a girl."

"Thank you."

"Anyway, he hugs her but I think that's probably because he's in love with her. You also hold a special place in his heart, but I'm going to assume that he's not gay for you. So, therefore, best friend."

It was my turn to hum.

"You are very observant."

"It's something I've had to develop."

"Why have you had to develop it?"

"We're even. I'm not telling you that," she said, her face paling slightly. Her _pretty_ face. I couldn't stop looking at her.

"If I tell you something else about myself would you tell me?"

"It depends on what you tell me. It's a very sensitive topic for me."

"I think it's best we leave it alone, then."

"That's what I thought."

"You should still tell me something about yourself. I haven't been able to find anything about you on the Internet and my father won't tell me anything."

"I take it that you like to research everyone you meet?"

I nodded.

"It helps me know what to expect from people."

"If you want to know what to expect from me, just expect constant sarcasm and antisocial behavior," she said.

"I'm more interested in why you are sarcastic and antisocial. Background information would be useful."

"Okay," she relented. "I'll tell you something stupid though. Like a story from camp."

"Tell me anything. I can almost assure you that I can come to a conclusion about you."

"Okay, a story from camp it is," she said.

She told me a story from her time as an intern at the summer camp. A child had come into the room where snakes were kept and asked to hold a snake that was about to shed. I had not been aware of this, but whenever a snake sheds its eyes cloud over, making it very difficult to see; for this reason, interns were not permitted to let campers hold shedding snakes. However, this snake was only getting ready to shed, so the intern in the snake room had allowed the child to hold it. The snake bit the child and attempted to swallow his thumb, so the boy began to cry and scream "what snake is this" as he was convinced it was a venomous snake. At that moment another intern ran into the room, worried about the screaming he had heard. The intern in the snake room sent the new intern to get an animal specialist. The animal specialist and the intern managed to pry the snake's jaws off the child's thumb, the child still screaming "what kind of snake is this" the entire time, and place the camper onto a golf cart that was stationed outside. They drove the camper to the health lodge, the camper screaming "what kind of snake is this" the entire way. Supposedly Miss Konanawa was the only person in the entire camp who had not heard the child scream as he was driven to the health lodge.

By the end of her story we were both laughing, though my laughter was incredibly quiet and not nearly as shoulder-shaking as hers. I coughed into my napkin in an effort to dispel my chuckles. Once Miss Konanawa's laughter subsided she looked at me with residual tears in her eyes.

"So," she said hoarsely. "What were you able to glean from that? Other than that my intern friends are incredible and that child was a dumbass?"

"Considering that your story did not contain you, nothing," I admitted.

She smiled down at the table and chuckled once more.

"I miss that place, though. Wish I could go back."

"Could you go back once your treatment is finished?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"No," she said. "No, I won't be going much of anywhere once my treatment is finished."

"Any particular reason for that?"

"You already know more about me than I know about you."

"Fair enough," I said.

Just then the bell rang and we were signaled to go to class. Miss Konanawa, for the first time, had held a pleasant conversation. And, for the first time, I didn't want to strangle someone as I headed to my first period class.


End file.
